


What the Fuck is a Selfie?

by Schave7728



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, First time writing SanSan, He's also technologically challenge, Sandor likes to curse, Sansa makes him wear a flower crown, Sansa to the rescue, Sansan Russian Roulette 2018, Snapchat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-07
Updated: 2018-02-07
Packaged: 2019-03-14 20:55:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13598199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Schave7728/pseuds/Schave7728
Summary: My entry for the Sansan Russian Roulette. My prompt was: "Sansa teaches Sandor how to use his new smartphone to take selfies."





	What the Fuck is a Selfie?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Hollandoodle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hollandoodle/gifts), [Maroucia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maroucia/gifts).



> This is my first time writing in the SanSan fandom and I hope I did them justice. Also, I don't use Snapchat so everything I know about it I learned from my sister. So if I made any mistakes, blame her.

 

 

“Please Sandor,” Sansa begged. “It will be fun!”

 

“It's not happening little bird. The first one was bad enough.” He folded his arms across his chest and glared down at her, hoping it would make him look more intimidating.

 

No such luck. The little bird just rolled her eyes and gave him a look that could make any cold-blooded killer's heart melt. “Please Sandor, it would mean so much to me if you did this.” For added measure, she even pouted her lip.

 

 

Damn her. Damn her to all the Seven bloody Hells. Sandor idly wondered if those fucking stories told in the North were true and if Sansa had any magic in her. Because it _sure_ felt like she was putting some sort of enchantment on him. Fuck! Looking down into her sky blue eyes he thought back to how he had gotten himself into this mess.

 

It had happened about a week ago when he was invited to one of the many parties held by the Stark girls. Filled to the brim with loud, drunken college students, he didn't even really know why he had gone. Actually, scratch that. He knew _exactly_ why he went and it all had to do with his pretty red-head neighbor, who had asked so _courteously_  if he would come. And how the hell was he suppose to say no after that?

 

 

And so he had gone to the damn party and at first, he actually had a good time. Thought that was mostly due to the fact that the little bird was by his side. Sandor was just about to gather up his courage and finally ask Sansa out, when her rude hellion of a sister came crashing into him, making them both topple over. He had let out a string of colorful curses as he felt both of their drinks spill all over them, almost not hearing the distinguish cracking sound. Once he was on his feet, he took out his phone only to find it broken beyond repair. When he had glared at Arya, she merely shrugged and said he needed a new phone anyways.

 

Considering that he hasn't gotten a new phone in almost ten years, he reluctantly had to agree with the wolf bitch. Which is why on his next day off he had gone to the phone store to get a new phone. Or as he likes to now call it, he went to one of the Seven Hells.

 

 

The constant staring and whispering he could deal with—Sandor has had to put up with that shit every day. But having to deal with a twenty-something punk, that didn't even _try_ to hide his disdain at his lack of knowledge of all things high tech, and _not_ punch his lights out was one of the hardest things he had ever done. Just thinking about that presumptuous, pompous little _cunt_ made his blood boil. He could still remember how his weasel face had scrunched up when he had asked Sandor if he even knew the difference between an iPhone and an Android. He should definitely reward himself for not sending that kid to the hospital. Sadly, his problems didn't end there. Because once he finally got the damn phone—after hours of waiting and signing bloody paperwork—he couldn't figure out how to use it.

 

His old phone had been easy to use. Press a couple of buttons here, a couple buttons there and Sandor was able to make and receive calls. He even had gotten used to texting, though it took him forever to write a simple reply. But with this bloody phone, every time he tried to press—or did he have to slide?— something, his big fat fingers made it impossible to use.

 

 

And that is how Sansa had found him—sitting on his couch as he tried to figure out how to add his old contacts to the phone. And like the goddess that she was, instead of teasing him when he asked her to help him with his phone, she merely smiled and told him she would gladly help. And when she sat close to him—almost in his _lap—_ he had to admit he enjoyed her teaching technique. She was _very_ hands-on. Every time he messed up on something, she would move in close and show him the correct way of doing things. Sometimes even going as far as moving his hand with her own. It was pure heaven, and Sandor wasn't ashamed to admit that he may have purposefully made mistakes.

 

Sansa had shown him where both the messaging and phone buttons were, and how to _gently_ press the touchscreen buttons. He was now confident that he able to make and receive calls. Not so confident that he could send a text message—his fat sausage fingers just won't let him. Sansa also showed him what “apps” were and the different kind of games he could download. Something that Sandor might look into, especially the different type of poker apps. The last thing she showed him was the camera and he really wished she hadn't.

 

 

“And this,” Sandor remembers her telling him, “is where your camera is.” She pressed the camera icon and imminently the image of his flat screen popped up. “You can also flip the camera so it's pointed at you.” Sansa pressed another button and then the image of his ugly mug and her goddess-like beauty appeared. “And now you can take a selfie. Smile!” He just had time to think _what the_ fuck _is a selfie?_ before she pressed a button and he heard a clicking sound.

 

Sansa brought the phone closer to her, pressing buttons and looking a little disappointed. “You didn't smile,” Sansa accused. And indeed the picture had Sansa smiling brighter than the sun and him frowning like he always does. “Now we have to take another one.”

 

 

Before she could get the camera back up, he grabbed the phone out of her hands, despite her whine of protest. “Not so fast little bird. Now what the hell is a selfie, and why are we taking them?”

 

And so Sansa than went on to explain that a selfie was technically a picture taken of yourself only, but having other people in it can still count—like that make sense. And that people usually do it just to have fun.

 

“Fun?” Sandor questioned, very doubtful on how just taking pictures could be fun. Taking pictures of just of _Sansa_ , he could see as fun. But of _him_? No way.

 

“Yeah, and they even have this app where you can add filters and make it look just crazy. Oh! I have it on my phone right now. I _have_ to show you some of these filters. You will just love it!” He watched silently as she brought up something called Snapchat on her phone, wishing he had just kept his mouth shut.

 

 

And when she turned her eyes towards him, he flat out refused to participate in whatever a Snapchat was. Thus began her begging and pleading for him to just try it _once._ And Sandor had held out as long as he could, but then she just _had_ to give that _look_ and he knew he was done. They both knew he could never say no to her for long.

 

Letting out a huge sigh, he motioned with his hands for her to continue. “Fine, I'll do it.” Before he could even get the sentence out, Sansa was hugging him and thanking him, telling him he won't regret it. He somehow doubts that.

 

Sitting back she held out her phone so it could get the both of them in the shot. “Okay, the first filter I want to try is a one that everyone has to do at least once. And don't forget to smile, or I'll make you take it again!” With that threat hanging in the air he looked towards the phone to see some sort of flower crown floating above his head. _Fuck me,_ Sandor thought already regretting doing this. Reluctantly, Sandor smiled trying not to notice how it twisted his scars and made them look more gruesome. With a click, the picture was taken and he watched as Sansa gushed over how great the picture had turned out and that she was saving it to her phone. Sandor just rolled his eyes, but he couldn't keep the small smile off his face at watching the pure joy that radiated off the little bird.

 

The next filters she had them try was some sort of face swap which he had to admit—not out loud mind you—was pretty fun to see. He got a good chuckle at seeing the distorted image. He did laugh out loud when she put up a filter of where they were both dogs. The next one she did had little blue birds flying around their head, making Sansa look like a Disney princess standing next to a troll. He finally drew the line when she had him look like a bunny. There is only so much he could take after all.

 

“Alright, little bird, I think that's enough,” Sandor rasped out. “You've had you're fun.”

 

Sansa pouted but relented in the end. “Fine, but did you at least enjoy yourself?”

 

Sandor thought about it for a second, rubbing his hand against his mouth. “It was definitely…entertaining. But I still don't see the point of a selfie.”

 

“There really isn't a _point_. It's just a way to have fun and being able to capture a memory. I mean don't you want a keepsake to look back on and remember how fun this afternoon was?”

 

The way she made it sound, he could start to understand the appeal. “I guess that makes sense. And this afternoon was fun, but I don't need a picture to remember it,” he argued.

 

 

Sansa was quiet for a minute, deep in thought. He could see the gears in her head turning and was tempted to ask what she thinking about so hard, but something told him that she needed to work it out on her own. Once she did look back into his eyes, he could see that she was nerves about something making him more alert.

 

“I-I want to try one more picture and if you still don't see the point I promise I'll never ask you to take a selfie again. Deal?”

 

Sandor narrowed his eyes. His gut feeling was telling him that there was something more going on, but he couldn't figure out what. “Alright, deal.”

 

“Okay, then. Let's do this.” Sansa gave him a smile that brightened the whole room—which also made his stomach do flips—as she scooted even closer to him. He watched as her finger tapped and slide across her phone, too fast for him to follow. Once she was done she quickly hid the phone so he couldn't look at the screen and looked him full on the face, nervously biting her lip. “Ready?” When he gave her a nod she brought the phone up so they were both in the shot.

 

He had only a second to be surprised to see a pink booth with heart and a sign that said 'KISSING BOOTH' floating around their head before he felt lips being pressed against his. The unexpectedness of the kiss had him momentarily stunned, but once his mind was rebooted he dove head first into the kiss like he's been wanting to for years.

 

The kiss itself was chaste, but he made sure he poured all his love and desire into it. His hand went into her hair, finally being able to feel how silky her auburn locks were. He moved his lips against hers in a slow dance but was also filled with a promise of _more_ if she wanted. Sansa let out a moan that had him on the verge of pushing her into the couch and fucking her until neither one of them could move.

 

 

When Sansa pulled back all he could do was stare at her and give her what was no doubt the most idiotic smile ever. The little bird just smiled back in response and made him wonder if he was dreaming, and if so, then he'll punch the motherfucker who tries to wake him up.

 

“See, taking photos isn't that bad,” Sansa teased, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

 

Sandor let out a chuckle at that, feeling lighter and freer than he had ever been before. “Nope, not so bad after all.” He tore his eyes away from hers to look down at the phone still loosely held in her hand. He could see that she had captured the picture right when he began kissing her back. The pure joy on both their faces was evident, and for the first time that day he began to think he didn't look that bad. “That's my favorite picture of the day.”

 

The little bird looked down at her phone, seeing the picture for the first time. “It's mine too. I'll make sure to send to you.”

 

“You can send pictures?” Sandor asked looking away from the phone. _Great_ , he thought. _Another thing for him to learn._

 

Her laughter had him looking back at her and smiling to see how happy she was. “I guess I need more help, huh?”

 

“Don't worry, I'll gladly help you.” She then gave him a look that had his blood running hot and his pants feeling tight. “How about we go into your bedroom and I'll teach you more on how to use the camera on your phone.”

 

He sat there for a second, processing what she had implied. Then with no warning, he quickly stood up and pulled Sansa with him towards his bedroom—the little bird giggling as she trailed behind him. The bedroom door slamming shut echoed in the apartment.

 

Only to be open again so Sandor could run a grab his phone. _Maybe this thing isn't so terrible after all_ , was his last thought before he turned his full attention back to Sansa for the rest of the night.

 

 

**The End**

 

 

 


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